


Interlude: Through the Looking Glass

by Scree_Kat



Series: Ineffable Parenthood [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aziraphale loves his little angels, Crowley loves his hellions, Gen, I caught feels send help, I love this ridiculous family, Ineffable fathers (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 08:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scree_Kat/pseuds/Scree_Kat
Summary: When the Ineffable Twins were taken in by their newer, more celestial parents, things changed.This is not a bad thing.





	Interlude: Through the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This series isn't published in chronological order. If this is something that'll irritate you, consider this your sign from the universe to run. Run like Hastur is drunk and lonely and trying to chat you up.

It has been said that every defining decision made by every living being in existence, right from the very moment existence got around to coming into being, splits reality into a newer, altered version. Off this version trundles, with nary a thought to the consequences on the poor original time line, and the utter inconvenience to a reality suddenly finding itself requiring a suture kit and a really good excuse for things to have suddenly changed. 

Perhaps this is true. Or perhaps God grows tired of the same creatures living out the same stories, and creates Themselves new realities to tinker with, the way networks lob variants of the same program into the televisual void in hopes something will manage to hold attention. Regardless of whether the world is an offshoot or an act of arguable fanfiction, the expected journey of one Harry James Potter veered rather drastically upon being ushered away from the Dursleys by an actual, literal angel.

Said actual, literal angel could see Harry's original fate, if only for a moment, in the instant between contemplation and committing to a minor act of kidnapping. And oh, but that fate was devastating to a being so attuned to love and happiness. He could see a boy, dwarfed in threadbare clothes far too large for so malnurished a body, glasses broken and taped and broken and taped until his nose was dented by the hastily made repairs. That Harry? That boy was painfully desperate to be loved, the sort who would throw his life away to protect those who barely even acknowledged his existence in hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone would bother to stay. Broken and defiant, that Harry would be the sort to forget his own value in the face of the greater good and so easily manipulated by even the merest hint of affection that his every choice in life would be tainted by that all-consuming need.

Aziraphale, lovely soul he might be, rather enjoyed stomping the life out of that potential fate, and ushering in a newer, better model. 

He would not allow Harry to grow believing himself lesser, or unworthy. No, if Harry had to save the world, he was going to go into it without lugging a veritable truckload of emotional baggage onto the battlefield. And if his son had to fight, it would be with an angel unwavering and loyal at his side. He quickly realised there would be a demon there, too. And a girl with hair like a rather angry halo and a scowl to send Beelzebub running. 

It took far too long for Harry to stop flinching at people too close to him, even longer for him not to seem dazed by affection, and ever so slightly suspicious of hugs. But in the moment the boy first leaned into, rather than away from, affection, Aziraphale knew he had made the right choice.

*

When Crowley saw Hermione's fate, he made a mental note to find God and kick the Almighty in a very painful bit of celestial anatomy. God was unimpressed, but could rather see his point.

Oh, the girl was brilliant. Genius, easily, with the sort of intellect that could move mountains and bring the world to its very knees. 

She was brilliant, and she was isolated, and she was broken and battered and made more so by those around her threatened by the idea of a tiny, incredibly intelligent little girl. There was no way in Hell the kid was ever going to know what it felt like to trust in friendship. Even when she finally made friends, she would spend her life waiting for the other shoe to drop, would run herself ragged trying to be enough, do enough, earn enough goodwill to make her so-called friends stay. Or even just appreciate her.

He had an image of a gangly red haired boy offering words of scorn, and a black haired boy watching silently on, and vowed to himself two Very Important Things:

One: the wrath of Fate be damned, Hermione Granger was never going to live that horrible, broken life (and here, he very pointedly ignored the similarities of being a not quite demonic demon trapped in hell, and a not quite normal girl trapped in the purgatory of normalcy) and

Two: if ever he met that ginger menace, it would rue the day it came screaming from its mother's womb. Originally, the black haired one was set for retribution, too, until the moment it turned out his angel had gone and adopted it. So instead, he added a third Very Important Thing: Harry Potter would not be allowed to sit idle and silent in the face of cruelty and scorn. (Aziraphale, of course, would come to loathe the trouble caused by Very Important Thing number 3.) 

Crowley hadn't given it a lot of thought, really, just obeyed the same instinct that had roared at him to go and talk to the pretty blonde angel guarding Eden. This time, said instinct demanded he take the girl away from the idiocy of normalcy and see what could happen if he let the girl learn to be unapologetically herself. To revel in her intellect, rather than be shamed for it. And while she had thrown herself at the hint of affection and never looked back, turning a demon into little more than a makeshift teddy bear when it suited her, it had taken far longer for her to speak out willingly about her interests, to launch into facts and theories and information without a hunching of shoulders that seemed readying for a physical attack. (She never knew that whenever Crowley saw her curling inwards warily, her biological father had a very bad, rather traumatic night).

It took an age for her to realise her intellect was accepted by her new family, her quirks appreciated. And the smile that lit her face in that moment of realisation was worth every single miserable year in Hell he'd suffered through. 

*

Secretly, Aziraphale and Crowley had both been an odd blend of hopeful and utterly terrified at the reaction of the Them. The group were sweet overall, but rough around the edges, and quick to critique the things they saw no use in. Aziraphale had hoped that Adam's commanding presence wouldn't intimidate Harry to silence, or irritate him into the sort of action he'd taken with Dudley. Crowley hoped that they were nice about the fact his adorable little hellion was essentially a walking encyclopedia who'd never really learned how to be a human child and generally seemed baffled about how to even try. It wasn't like he could teach her, or even smooth the transition for her, even if he really, really wished that he could. 

So they'd hoped, and they'd watched the first wary interaction. And they'd miracled the pair some bikes (and rudimentary skills in their use, because Aziraphale was not going to see his son rushed to the hospital on their very first day together, thank you very much!), and given them reassuring smiles as they ushered them out the door and they'd hoped some more as the hours passed and nobody came back screaming, sobbing, or having set an unfortunate townsfolk on fire. 

Or, at least, that's how Aziraphale spent his morning. Crowley had promptly turned into a snake and followed the group of children, because he had invented helicopter parenting, and blessed if he wasn't going to make sure his hellions were safe and happy while having a play date with the Antichrist. 

Though Adam was the leader, Pepper was his clear second in command, with Brian and Wensleydale wandering merrily along in their wake. While the two boys were throwing questions at Harry and Hermione, with Adam joining in every so often with a question of his own, Pepper had stayed silent, eyes rarely straying from the new children in their midst. It felt like she was sizing the pair up, and Crowley wondered how upset Adam would be if Pepper was ever so slightly vanished from their lives. He was contemplating the best way or removing judgemental children from peer groups when Brian made the mistake of declaring it as scientific fact that Jupiter was made of rock. For a moment, Hermione's expression contorted away from politeness and towards something far worse, like she was physically trying to keep herself silent and it was genuinely painful to even try. Pepper's own expression veered from polite disdain towards genuine interest in response. For a moment, Crowley believed Hermione would force her features to polite acceptance and go about her day. And then she lost the internal battle with an odd little flailing gesture, like a fledgling kicked from the nest by its mother and trying to learn how to use the flappy bits at its sides, and Hermione fell into an explanation punctuated with shy grins, flailing hands, and more words than than seemed possible within the span of a single human child's breath. 

The boys were silent, Adam seeming vaguely impressed, Brian and Wensleydale looking somewhere between baffled and nervous while Harry smiled at her as though it was the most normal thing in the world (the boy learned quickly, clearly). Hermione's shoulders slumped, and she instinctively began to make herself less of a target. Crowley could actually see the self-recriminations ghosting about behind her eyes as she assumed she'd just lost her first potential friends. And then Pepper was there, hands flailing like the two girls were creating their own mimed language, excited and indulgent and more than happy to see another girl interested in STEM, the pair shifting through subject matter effortlessly as though it were entirely normal to have your conversation move from planets to woodwork to the specific type of birdlife found on a tiny island just off Australia and on to complex equations. 

Adam shot the girl's a fond smile, shaking his head and ushering the boys off to do something fun ('clearly,' he'd grinned, 'the girls were too busy to do anything interesting'). Crowley knew, though, that the boy was listening to the conversation closely, could see his curiousity and resolve to ask questions a little later, once the pair had worn themselves out a little.

It had taken Harry a few minutes more to feel confident within the group, but the moment Adam realised Harry had a rather vivid imagination, and the ability to help him come up with games to amuse the rest, their status as best friends was cemented, commemorated, and celebrated amongst the Them. 

Crowley hadn't lingered long once he'd known the children were safe and happy. Instead, he'd gone and snuggled with Aziraphale, talking quietly about the fates they'd seen and the ways in which they could make sure their children never lived a single, solitary moment of them. And if Crowley started practising saying 'I love you' in the mirror to learn how to say it without grimacing, well, that was the sort of sacrifice fathers made, wasn't it?

**Author's Note:**

> For those asking for a chronological order, it runs as follows:
> 
> In Which A Family Is Created Through Arguable Theft  
Thoughts From the Back of a Bentley  
Hiding In Plain Sight  
Interlude: Through the Looking Glass  
Her Father’s Eyes  
In Which You Probably Shouldn’t Say Those Kinds Of Things Around Children, Crowley  
The Demon Of Lost Causes  
Raising Hell  
Somebody to Love  
Interlude: A Walk Down Privet Drive and An Ominous Sense of Oncoming Doom


End file.
